Hogwarts Sing-A-Long
by Topaz
Summary: Hogwarts sing-a-long, join the fun... It's finally finished! A chaptered story that's actually finished...read it now, you know you want to! Oh. Really? Not even a tiny bit? Well, fine, just be that way!
1. Draco's Debut

HOGWARTS SING-A-LONG   
by Topaz

_A/N: First of all, this fic includes a lot of what some people call OOC and what I call Creative Characterization, so be forewarned. Second of all, don't expect much of a plot. Third, thank you to lyricserver.com for supplying me with the lyrics to these songs, and blame them if some of the words are wrong. _

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & Company belong to J. K. Rowling or WB, whichever, this fic belongs to me, and "Basket Case" belongs to Green Day. 

  
It was a dark and stormy night. Rain poured outside the windows, the wind thrashed wildly through the trees, and the moon hung like a silver beacon above the dark trees and the lake, whose smooth reflection was marred by the wind. 

Dumbledore beamed at the students assembled in the Great Hall. "It appears to be raining out," he announced. 

"No shit, Sherlock," Draco Malfoy muttered sullenly. 

Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling and he pinned a sharp glare on Malfoy. "Thank you for volunteering, Mister Malfoy." 

Draco looked around nervously. "For what?" 

"Our sing-a-long," Dumbledore replied, smiling sweetly. "Whenever it's raining at Hogwarts we gather in the Great Hall and sing songs until the sun comes out." 

Draco went white. "I don't sing." 

Dumbledore smiled cheerily. "Don't be silly, Malfoy, everyone sings! Just have confidence in yourself. You can go first." 

"No, please--" Draco looked wildly around at the other students, but none made any move to help him. His face still as pale as the moon outside, Draco stood up and stumbled toward the front of the hall, looking as though he were going to be sick. The whites of his eyes were showing as he stopped in front of everyone, face shiny with sweat. 

"What should I sing?" he squeaked. 

"Anything you want," Dumbledore replied, smiling broadly. "The microphone is enchanted, so you don't really have a choice. It makes you sing the song that best...suits you." 

To his complete and utter (not udder, utter) horror, Draco felt his mouth open and his voice box begin to vibrate entirely against his will. Words were coming from his throat. A song. He listened. 

"_Do you have the time to listen to me whine? About nothing and everything all at once_..." Hm, Draco thought, I have a damn good voice. I should sign up for Chorus next year. But I certainly don't whine... 

"_I am one of those melodramatic fools_..." I am not a fool! Draco thought furiously, but his mouth was beyond his control. "_Neurotic to the bone_..." 

"That's for sure," Harry Potter said loudly, grinning. Draco snarled at him. 

"..._no doubt about it_..." His face was bright red now instead of white. I am NOT neurotic, Draco told himself fiercely. I'm just misunderstood. 

"_Sometimes I give myself the creeps_." 

"You give us the creeps, too," Ron Weasley replied, snorting with laughter. 

Crimson, Draco struggled to stop the words flowing from his mouth. "_Sometimes my mind plays trick on me. It all keeps adding up_..._I think I'm cracking up. Am I just paranoid?_" 

"No, you're definitely cracking up," Hermione Granger said thoughtfully. 

"_Or am I just stoned?_" Draco sang, wishing that there were a rock nearby. Preferably one large enough to crawl under. Suicide was starting to sound wonderful. 

"That's certainly possible," Hermione agreed. 

"_I went to a shrink_..." 

"About time, too," Ron remarked. 

"..._to analyze my dreams. She said it's lack of sex that's bringing me down_." Draco groaned silently. Things could not get worse. 

"Don't worry, Malfoy...someday you'll find a girlfriend," Harry said, fighting back snickers. "I'm sure there are some very lonely slugs and hippopotamuses out there." 

Shut up Potter, Draco said mentally. We'll just see what you sing when it's your turn. His face still flaming, he sang on. "_I went to a whore_..." Wow, Draco thought, it could get worse. Amazing. 

"_He said my life's a bore_..." I wouldn't go to a whore! Draco shrieked mentally. Stupid, stupid microphone. Besides, my life isn't boring. And I'm certainly not gay. 

"_And quit my whining cause it's bringing him down_." Draco scowled at the imaginary whore. No mere prostitute should address him like that. "_Grasping to control_..._so you better hold on_..." 

"_Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up...I think I'm cracking up. Am I just paranoid or am I just stoned?_" 

Silence fell, then people began to applaud. 

"Hm," said Hermione. "I don't know if we'll ever know the answer to that last one." 

Draco glared at her. "Shut up." He was delighted to learn that he could now control his voice box. 

"Thank you for that lovely rendition of Basket Case, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You ought to try out for the Magical Chorus." 

"Not if it has microphones like that," Draco muttered, slinking back to his seat. He had just learned the true meaning of the phrase "Utterly humiliated" and he didn't like it. 

***

Dumbledore looked around at the audience, still whispering and giggling in delight at Draco's solo. "Who would like to go next?" 

Silence fell. No one uttered a peep (I've used the word 'utter' a lot in this, haven't I) for fear of attracting attention. Most stared at the floor. A few stared at Draco, shaking with silent laughter. He glared back, his face an interesting shade of magenta. 

Dumbledore continued to beam brighter than a lighthouse. "Anyone?" 

Suddenly a dark figure burst into the hall. 

"I am Lord Voldemort," said Lord Voldemort. 

(To be continued, of course...) 


	2. Can I Have Your Autograph?

HOGWARTS SING-A-LONG   
by Topaz

_Disclaimer: "Flagpole Sitta" belongs to Harvey Danger. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling or WB. The voices in my head belong to me, although they think I belong to them._

  
For a moment the students sat still, petrified with fright. Then Dennis Creevey shouted "Cool! It's Voldemort! Can I have your autograph?" 

Voldemort looked unnerved. "Of course not, you silly boy. I shall kill you." 

Dennis's eyes widened with awe. "Really?" He stared at Voldemort with an expression somewhat akin to that of a pious Christian upon meeting Jesus. 

It occurred to Voldemort that he was losing the iniative. "Ahem. I have come to kill you and forever destroy Harry Potter!" he announced. There was a brief pause, and then Voldemort looked down. He was being mobbed by a group of small children, all frantically begging for his autograph. 

"Welcome, Tom," Dumbledore said. Somehow his voice managed to beam. "Long time since we've last seen each other, hm? How have you been?" 

Voldemort's eyes darted wildly around him. Somehow he had the feeling that things weren't going quite the way he had intended. "I'm here to kill you," he repeated, in case they hadn't heard. 

"Yes, yes, we know," Dumbledore said agreeably. "We're in the middle of a sing-along. Care to join?" 

Somehow, his feet seemed to walk down toward the microphone while the rest of him screamed for them to stop. Voldemort found himself standing at the mic, before a sea of faces. He feel sick. He'd always hated performing in front of people. 

His mouth opened, and his voice box, ignoring his furious commands to shut up, began to vibrate. "_I had visions, I was in them, I was looking into the mirror_..._to see a little bit clearer_..._the rottenness and evil in me_." 

The students watched, fascinated. No doubt they were the only people to ever see Voldemort sing. 

"_Fingertips have memories, mine can't forget the curves of your body_." 

Hermione choked. Ron looked horrified. Draco looked sick. Harry grinned. 

"_And when I feel a bit naughty I run it up the flagpole and see who still salutes (but no one ever does)_." Voldemort cringed. Hearing yourself sing a humiliating song was bad enough, but when you add in the fact that he had the voice of a frog and couldn't carry a tune if it was glued to his hands... 

"_I'm not sick, but I'm not well_..." 

Hermione nodded. That was definitely true, except maybe the "not sick" part. 

"_And I'm so hot_..._cause I'm in Hell_." 

"No, you're in the Great Hall, and anyway, Snape's dungeon is pretty chilly," Harry argued. "Dunno why you'd be hot there unless you're an Eskimo wearing twenty layers of flannel." 

"Flannel is nasty," said Parvati. Several people gave her weird looks and edged away. 

"_Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding_," Voldemort croaked. 

Lavender looked indignant. "I'm not stup--" Seamus elbowed her in the stomach, hard. 

"That's true," Snape said. "Only an idiot would have children. Nasty little buggers." 

Voldemort found that he was blushing. "_The cretins cloning and feeding_..._and I don't even own a TV!_" 

Ron looked blank. "What's a TV?" 

"It's a box that shows a lot of sex and violence interspersed with ads," Harry replied, looking bored. 

"Awesome," Dennis breathed. "Can I have one?" 

"_Put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me_," Voldemort trilled. Inwardly, he thought: If they even try to commit me to a mental hospital, they'll...they'll...they'll regret it. "_You told them all I was crazy!_" 

"Er...you ARE crazy," Ron pointed out in a sensible tone. 

"_They cut off my legs, now I'm an aputee, goddamn you!_" Voldemort looked down. Yes, his legs were still there, thank goodness. "_I'm not sick, but I'm not well. And I'm so hot, cause I'm in Hell_." 

Parvati handed him a fan. "Here, this might help." 

"_I'm not sick, but I'm not well_..." 

"I believe that's been established," Hermione said tactfully. 

Voldemort glared at her, his eyes bloodshot. Well, they were normally bloodshot, but now they were even more bloodshot. Even the red veins were bloodshot and crossed with red veins. "_And it's a sin to live so well. I wanna publish zines_..." 

"Reach for the stars, man," Dean said. "Follow your dream." 

"_And rage against machines_..." Voldemort briefly wondered what a zine was. "_I wanna pierce my tongue, it doesn't hurt, it feels fine_..." 

"No," Lavender said with the certainly of one who has been there, done that, "it does hurt. And you have to be careful what you eat afterward." 

"I didn't know Voldemort was into jewelry," Ron said doubtfully. 

"Body piercing is a sin!" someone yelled. "You're going to Hell!" 

Voldemort rolled his bloodshot eyes. He was going to Hell? Gee, that was a shocker. "_The trivial sublime_..._I'd like to turn off time_..._and kill my mind_." 

"I don't think that's possible," Hermione said, looking worried. 

"_You kill my mind_..." Voldemort wondered if anyone there had a video camera and suddenly felt like fainting. "_Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me!_" 

"Er," said Harry, "not to, you know, upset you or anything, but it's not just paranoia. Everyone is kind of out to get you. You being Voldemort, and all. You know?" 

Ron looked thoughtfully. "Maybe you should try Draco's shrink," he suggested. 

"I don't have a shrink!" shrieked Draco. 

"Well, you should," Ron said firmly. 

"_Just say you never met me, I'm running underground with the moles (digging holes)_." Voldemort had never liked moles. Nasty little critters. 

"_Hear the voices in my head, I swear to god it sounds like they're snoring!_" Voldemort sang. Now they were all looking at him strangely. 

"Lucky," Draco said wistfully. "The voices in my head never shut up." 

"_But if you're bored, then you're boring. The agony and the irony, they're killing me!_" 

"Good riddance," someone muttered. 

"_I'm not sick, but I'm not well_..." 

"You said that twice," Hermione pointed out, "and anyhow, you are sick." 

"_And I'm so hot, cause I'm in Hell_..._I'm not sick, but I'm not well_..." 

Hermione glared at Voldemort. 

"_And it's a sin_..._to live so well_..." His voice trailed off, and Voldemort gasped for breath, his unnaturally pale face now crimson with humiliation. Why had he never considered singing as a possible torture for captured Aurors and Muggles? 

"That was a wonderful performance, Tom," said Dumbledore, beaming. "I didn't know you were a fan of Harvey Danger. Who wants to go next?" 

"I'm here to _kill_ you!" Voldemort repeated, shocked and offended that they would ignore him for so long. 

"Yes, you said," Hermione said impatiently. "You know, you seem to have a problem with repeating things over and over again. Perhaps it's a sort of extended stutter." 

Voldemort stumbled away from the microphone, cursing. "Everyone here has gone insane!" 

"You should talk," Ron muttered. 

"Can I plllleeeeeaaaaasssseee have your autograph?" Dennis begged. 

Eyeballs bulging with fury, Voldemort whipped his wand out of his robes and tried to point it at Dumbledore, Hermione, and Dennis at the same time. Needless to say, he failed. 

(To be continued. Obviously.)


	3. Roneo and Hermiet

HOGWARTS SING-A-LONG   
by Topaz

_A/N: Don't worry. Only two or so more chapters after this and the torture will be over. _

Disclaimer: "What's My Age Again?" belongs to Blink182. You should know who Harry belongs to by now, even if I don't. 

  
"Who would like to go next?" Dumbledore asked cheerily. 

Half of the student body hid under the table. The other half tried to hind behind each other, but obviously someone had to be in front. Ron Weasley, struggling and protesting, found himself shoved to the front. Draco smirked. 

"Ah, Ron!" said Dumbledore. "Thank you for volunteering!" 

Ron whimpered. 

Somehow time collapsed and one minute he was trembling in front of the crowd, the next he was standing before them with the microphone held in one hand. He tried to scream, but couldn't. There was an odd feeling, the same one you would get if an insane plumbing device had ripped out your voice box and attached it to a computer. 

Music began to fill the air, emanating from the microphone. Ron, beads of sweat shining on his forehead, began to sing. "_I took her out, it was a Friday night. I wore cologne, to get the feeling right. We started making out_..." 

About one thousand jaws dropped. Fred and George Weasley looked stunned. Hermione went pale. 

"..._and she took off my pants_..." 

"I did not!" Hermione shrieked, leaping to her feet. "You're exaggerating! I only unbuttoned your shirt!" 

"You _did?_" Fred said, sounding delighted. 

"_But then I turned on the TV_," Ron sang, his ears flaming. "_And that's about the time she walked away from me_." He glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She glared at him. 

"You turned on _Baywatch!_" 

"So?" Ron managed to squeak before the microphone regained control. "_Nobody likes you when you're twenty-three_..." 

"Ron, dear, you're fifteen," George said flatly. 

Ginny giggled. "Ron's going insane." 

"Oh, brilliant observation, that," Draco muttered. "Someone give the girl a medal." The judges for the annual Stating the Obvious award handed Ginny a medal with 'This is a medal' written on it. 

"_And I'm still more amused by TV shows. What the hell is ADD?_" 

"Attention Deficit Disorder," Hermione said reluctantly, unable to stop herself. "It's--" 

"I bloody well know what it is," Ron snarled. 

"Then why'd you ask?" 

"I didn-- _My friends say I should act my age_..." Ron stared pointedly at Harry, who looked guilty. 

"Well, honestly, Ron, you thought Santa Claus was real until third year," Harry said defensively. 

"He's not?" Dennis said in a horrified voice. 

"Oops," said Harry, sounding panicky. 

"_What's my age again?_" 

"Fifteen, Ron," Hermione said. 

"Santa's dead?" Dennis asked sadly. 

"_What's my age again?_" 

Hermione glowered at him. "What is it with you and Voldemort? I already told you! And you should know your own age, anyway." 

Ron started to reply, but his voice box clobbered him and went on singing. "_But later on, on the drive home, I called her mom, from a pay phone_." 

"What?" Hermione said angrily. "Ron!" 

"Eep..." Ron, looking terrified, tried to clamp his mouth shut with both hands. It didn't work. "_I said I was the cops, and your husband's in jail, the state looks down on sodomy_." 

"RON!" 

"_And that's about the time that bitch hung up on me_," sang Ron, miserably. By now he had a sort of huddled look like a dog that knows it shouldn't have peed on the Oriental rug. 

"Ron! I'm telling Mum you swore!" Ginny screeched. 

"My mother is not a bitch," Hermione growled. 

"Dunno about that--" Draco began, earning himself a sharp whack on the ear. 

Cowering behind the microphone, Ron continued. "_Nobody likes you when you're twenty three_." 

Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." 

"_And I'm still more amused by prank phone calls_..." 

"Me, too," Draco agreed. "I love the one about Stanley...you know, where--" 

"_What the hell is Call ID?_" 

"It's this thing--" Harry began. 

"Santa's dead!" Dennis sobbed, standing forlornly in a corner. 

"_My friends say I should act my age_... _What's my age again? What's my age again?_" Ron caught a glimpse of Hermione's face and cringed. "Hermione, it's the microphone, it's evil, I--" 

"I don't want to hear it," said Hermione, icily. 

"Hermione..." 

Draco smirked. 

"_And that's about the time she walked away from me. Nobody likes you when you're twenty-three. And you still act like you're in freshman year_..." 

"More like preschool," Draco said under his breath. 

"_What the hell is wrong me with?_" 

"Let me count the ways..." quoth Hermione. Draco looked as though he heartily agreed. 

Ron glared at Hermione. "I told you, it's not me! The stupid microphone--" 

"Oh, right, blame the microphone." 

He exploded. Well, not literally. "Cripes, Hermione, do you listen to a word I say? The bloody microphone is making me sing this! You saw Voldemort! You saw Draco!" 

"No one saw Draco," Draco said quickly. "That was a figment of your imaginations. Draco was never here. Er, you are getting sleepy, sort of thing." 

"_My friends say I should act my age_..._What's my age again? What's my age again?_" 

"Of course I listen to you!" Hermione shouted. "You just ignore me, it's always 'Oh, the Chudley Cannons are on against that blasted team from wossname--" 

"Texas," Ron said sullenly. 

" 'So forget the date, let's just watch TV and call Mrs. Andrews and pretend to be her dead husband'. Honestly, could you get more tasteless?" Hermione spat. 

"_That's about the time that she broke up with me. No one should take themselves so seriously_," Ron intoned. 

"You mean her husband wasn't really calling her from beyond the grave?" said Lavender, horrified. 

"Ron was calling her, and he'll soon be in his grave if I have any say in the matter," Hermione said helpfully. 

"_With many years ahead to fall in love, why would you wish down me?_" 

Hermione stood up, knocking her chair over. "So that's it! You don't love me." 

"Damn straight," said Ron. "Took you bloody long enough." 

"I hate you!" Hermione shouted. 

"I hate you, too!" 

"Good!" 

"Goo- _I never want to act my age. What's my age again? What's my age again?_..." 

Hermione burst into tears, whirled, and ran out of the Great Hall, sobbing. Ron looked guiltily at Harry. 

"I didn't mean that," he said in a worried tone. "Do you think she'll be okay?" 

"Oh, just fine," Harry said, his voice far past the legal limit for sarcasm saturation. Ron still managed to not notice it, deserving an award for Most Oblivious Person to Walk the Earth. He would have gotten it, too, but the judges were too oblivious to notice his obliviousness. 

"Good," he said, still anxious, then sang one final line. "_What's my age again_..." 

"_Santa_..." wailed Dennis. 

Colin poked him. "Voldemort's still alive." 

Dennis perked up immediately. "Oh, yeah!" He paused, lower lip trembling again. "But Voldemort doesn't give me presents!" 

"He kills people," Colin replied logically. 

"Oh, right." Dennis nodded, smiling once more. 

"Maybe I'd better go after her," Ron suggested. 

Harry nodded. "Maybe. Wear a poncho, though, it's still raining." As if on cue, several tons of rain sleeted down at that exact moment. Thunder crashed. Neville Longbottom hid under his chair, his normally pink face ashen. 

Ron ran outside, shouting, "Hermione?" 

"Go away!" came the reply. 

"Please, Hermione, I'm really sorry--" 

There was a loud thud, and Ron stumbled back into the Great Hall, clutching his head and holding a slightly dented Nerf football in his hand. "I didn't know Hermione had that good of an arm," he whispered to Harry, wobbling dizzily. "She should be a Chaser." 

"Please settle down, everyone," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Tom, do stop stabbing Nearly Headless Nick. It's a bit late for that." 

Voldemort blushed and thrust the butcher knife under his seat. Nick stuck his transparent tongue out, and Voldemort glared at him. "Well, _your_ momma's so fat--" 

"_Tom_." 

"Sorry, Headmaster," Voldemort said automatically, then clapped a hand over his mouth, looking astonished. 

"Let's see," Dumbledore beamed, looking around the auditorium. "Who'll sing next?" 

Once more the Hall began to resemble a rodent hole as hundreds of students tried to burrow underneath each other or convenient pieces of furniture. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. 

"Well," he said, "if no one will volunteer I'm afraid I'll have to choose someone..." 

_(To be continued...although maybe not for a while, seeing as I have finals coming up.)_


	4. Percy's Revolt

HOGWARTS SING-A-LONG   
by Topaz

  
_A/N: Once again, any problems with the lyrics are all the fault of the people I stole them from. :-P_

Silence fell, and picked herself up again. 

Suddenly Percy Weasley ran up, waving a large flag and an old fashioned revolver. Fred and George gaped. Ron felt his forehead. 

"_I want to be the minority_," Percy sang, or rather screeched, into the microphone. "_I don't need your authority_." 

Other people swarmed in behind him, also waving flags and revolvers. Harry recognized Dean, Seamus, Penelope, Cho, and Professor Sprout. They were cheering loudly and thonking each other accidentally with the revolvers, which were heavier than they looked. 

"_Down with the moral majority_," Percy warbled. "We are taking over this school, Dumbledore!" 

"Must you?" Dumbledore said wistfully. "I just got it redecorated..." 

"Yes!" Percy cried dramatically. "We are here to free the enslaved students and rescue them from their cruel fate. _Cause I want to be the minority!_" 

"I _like_ being a student," said Hermione, but no one heard her. 

"_I pledge allegiance to the underworld_." 

"Percy, have you gone mad?" Ron asked, looking horrified. 

"Madder, you mean," said George. 

Percy waved his revolver around rather too enthusiastically for Harry's peace of mind. "_One nation underdog, there of which I stand alone_." 

"Er, not quite alone," said Cho, ducking under the revolver, "so please watch where you wave that thing." She gave hers a half-hearted shake and yelped when Seamus accidentally elbowed her in the stomach. 

"_A face in the crowd_," Percy wailed. "_Unsung, against the mold_." 

"Mold?" Lavender made a face. "Ew." 

"_With a doubt, singled out, the only way I know!_" 

"You're not singled out, so could you please try not to give me a concussion?" Cho pleaded, ducking away from the revolver once more only to crash into Penelope, who made a startled noise and thwocked her with her flag. 

Percy began to dance a jig. "_Cause I want to be the minority. I don't need your authority. Down with the moral majority, cause I want to be the minority!_" 

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. For the first time that night, he looked tired. Odd, that, thought Harry. He doesn't mind Voldemort, but Percy's really annoying him. Voldemort seemed to realize this as well, and he glowered at both Percy and Dumbledore. 

"_Stepped out of the line_," crooned Percy. 

"What line?" Ginny looked around. "I don't see a line." 

"_Like a sheep runs from the herd_." 

"It's called a flock," muttered Hermione. "Not a herd. Herds are for horses and cattle and such." 

Percy glared at her. "_Marching out of time_." 

"I hate when people do that!" Ron said, leaping to his feet. "It's so annoying! It's like when people sing along with the radio, but off-key, and you can barely here the song cause they're so bloody loud--" Harry clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him back into his seat. 

"_To my own beat, now... The only way I know! One light, one mind, flashing in the dark_." 

"How can a mind flash in the dark?" Ginny inquired. 

Even Percy looked slightly nonplussed. "Well..." he faltered, "maybe it's a glow-in-the-dark mind. _Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts_." 

"No, you're not blinded by sounds," Ginny said. "I'm sure of that. Especially when there are no sounds. Because that's what silence is. Yes. Besides, minds haven't got eyes, so how could they go blind?" 

"Oh, right, just cause they're minds you think they can't have eyes," Parvati spat. "Disgusting stereotypes. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." 

"_'For crying out loud!' she screamed unto me_," Percy shrieked. 

"Er...did she?" said Harry. 

"Who is she?" added Ron. 

"Why'd she say that, anyway?" asked Hermione. 

Percy glared at them, his eyes slightly deranged and bloodshot. "_A free for all, f*ck 'em all--_" 

"Percy!" Ginny gaspd. 

"_You are your own sight!_" 

Voldemort stared at Percy. "What are you babbling about, foolish boy? People seeing themselves? Blind glow-in-the-dark minds?" 

"I heard about fish like that once," Ron said. "Blind, glow-in-the-dark fish. They lived in caves. I think they were called blind cave fish. Or maybe blind glow-in-the-dark cave fish." 

"Ooh, there's a shocker," said Hermione. "What an odd name to give them." 

"I know," Ron agreed, blithely unaware of her sarcasm. "I wonder why they called them that. Usually they call fish something like icheksthus kfjdefefus." 

"_Cause I want to be the minority_," Percy sang rather loudly, sensing that he was losing his audience. "_I don't need your authority. Down with the moral majority, cause I want to be the minority_." 

"Yes, you said so. Several times," Hermione said impatiently. 

Cho rubbed her bruises and glared at her fellow rebels. "Are we going to do anything besides stand around and sing?" 

"I know a really good one about bananas--" Seamus began. 

"Or we could sing 'Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog'," Dean suggested. 

"Was he? What's he now?" asked Penelope, vaguely. 

"Dunno, maybe a cat or something." 

Percy sulked. "_One light, one mind, flashing in the dark_." 

"Oh, that again," said Ron. "I think that's fishy." 

"_Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts_." 

"You couldn't even be deafened by silence, let alone blinded," said Ginny crossly. "Don't be stupid." 

"_'For crying out loud!' she screamed unto me_," Percy sang. 

"Who screamed?" Voldemort asked eagerly, looking around. He _liked_ screaming. 

"I bet it was Sabrina Abbott," Ginny whispered to Hermione. "I saw Percy kissing her last Friday behind the Whomping Willow." 

"What was that about Percy kissing Sabrina?" said Penelope, giving Percy a very severe look. He wilted. 

"Er, I... _A free for all, f*ck 'em all, you are your own sight! I want to be the minority, I don't need your authority, down with the moral majority, cause I want to be the minority!_" 

"Will you all stop repeating yourselves!" Hermione yelled. 

"_The minority_..." 

Hermione sighed. 

"_The minority_..." 

"We heard you the first six hundred times!" 

"_The minority_..." 

Hermione stood up. Smoke was coming out of her ears. "Percy Weasley, if you say that one more time..." 

"_I want to be the minority!_" Percy finished desperately, then turned and fled from Penelope and Hermione. 

"NO!" said Voldemort. "You can't win!" He stood up. 

"Yes, we can," Cho said peevishly. "Try and stop us. We're taking over this school and no mangy old Death Barfing fool like you is going to --" 

"_Avada kedavra!_" 

_To be continued. Nah, maybe I'll just leave it here...*snigger* Ultimate cliffhanger. Well, if would be if anyone cared what would happen next. *sigh* Oh well, the next part is coming soon._


	5. Blame Voldemort

HOGWARTS SING-A-LONG   
by Topaz

  
_A/N: Here it is, the end! And no sequels, for any machoists out there who were thinking of asking for one. None. _

Disclaimer: "Blame Canada" belongs to South Park, or whoever wrote it, or something. "Blame Voldemort", however, belongs to me. *beams* 

A flash of brilliant green light lit the room, and Percy Weasley crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap. Ginny screamed. Fred and George watched in horrified fascination. Ron burst into tears. Voldemort looked stunned. 

"Oops," he said guiltily. "I didn't mean that." 

"Didn't mean it?!" Ron yelled. "Fat lot of help that is! 'Avada kedavra! Oh, sorry, did that hurt?' You bloody idiot!" 

Voldemort sulked. "It was an accident. I did it out of habit." 

Percy sat up and rubbed his head. "Owww. Bad headache." 

"And now Percy's dead!" wailed Ron. 

"Er, I'm not quite dead," said Percy. 

"You heartless person!" 

"I'm getting better," Percy said helpfully. 

"How _could_ you?" 

"I think I can get up, really, I'm all right--" 

Ron suddenly noticed that his presumed dead brother was sitting up and looking with a confused expression. "PERCY! You're alive!" 

"I _think_ so," Percy agreed cautiously. 

The Weasleys threw themselves on Percy en masse, hugging him and shrieking with joy. Percy gurgled and tried to push the mass of happy redheads off of him. "Really, guys, I'm all right. You can get off. You can get -- erp. Ow, don't elbow me there." 

Dumbledore leapt to his feet. "Everyone calm down! Stop screaming!" 

Lavender fainted. 

"I didn't mean to!" yelled Voldemort. "Stop shouting at me!" 

Suddenly, a tall blonde woman burst into the hall, a huge acid-green quill in one hand and a pad of paper in the other. She rushed up to Dumbledore. "What's going on here?" 

"Rita Skeeter!" Hermione squeaked. "Not her!" 

"Everything's gone wrong!" Ron wailed. "Percy's been cursed, everyone's acting nutters, it's all crazy!" 

Rita looked delighted, and she began to circle the room, searching for prey -- er, people to interview. As Harry and Hermione watched in horror, she swept right in front of the microphone -- and stopped. 

"_Times have changed!_" Rita sang in a nasal, whiny voice. "_The news is getting worse!_" 

The students turned to look at her. 

"_Dumbledore's gone crazy!_" 

This was, the students had to admit, true. After all, Dumbledore was the one who had insisted on having a sing-a-long with the Microphone From Hell. At that moment Dumbledore was having a conversation with Percy's flag. 

"_Percy Weasley's just been cursed!_" 

Ron sobbed harder. "I know! It's awful!" 

"He deserved it," snarled Penelope. "Kissing Sabrina, indeed. You jerk, Percy. If Voldemort hadn't cursed you, I would!" 

"_Should we blame the Ministry?_" Parvati sang. 

"_Or blame society?_" Hermione suggested. 

The boys gathered together and opened their mouths. "_Or should we blame the Quidditch referees?_" 

Rita snatched the microphone. "_No! Blame Voldemort!_" 

"Hey!" Voldemort protested. "What did I do?" 

"You bloody killed my brother, you stupid git," Ron replied. 

"Your brother's not dead!" 

"So?" 

"_Blame Voldemort!_" the students chorused. 

"_With his evil glowing eyes, and flappin' head so full of lies_," Rita screeched. 

Voldemort looked hurt. "I admit that I'm not quite model material, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?" 

"_Blame Voldemort! Blame Voldemort!_" 

Rita snatched Percy's flag and waved it around enthusiastically. "_We need to form a full assault!_" 

"_It's Voldemort's fault!_" everyone agreed. 

Oliver Wood, clutching his broomstick in one hand, ran to the front of the room. "_Don't blame me for Gryffindor's defeat! After Voldie cursed poor Harry, he just couldn't take the heat!_" 

"Wimp," Draco muttered. 

"Psycho," Ron retorted. 

"_And my house Slytherin once had the trophy on its shelf!_" Snape sang proudly. "_But now all these first years tell me to fuck myself!_" He glared at Dennis Creevey, who whistled innocently. 

Rita lifted her fist in the air. "_Well, blame Voldemort!_" 

"_Blame Voldemort!_" 

"_It seems that everything's gone wrong since Voldemort came along_," Rita howled. 

"Not really, but people like to have something to pin their blame on to make themselves feel better," Hermione remarked. "It's part of human nature. There's also a superstitious element to it; people will notice things going wrong that they would have ignored previously once something has been--" 

"_Blame Voldemort! Blame Voldemort!_" 

"_He's not even a real country anyway_," Ron trilled. 

"Huh?" 

"Of course he's not a country!" 

"Oops," Ron said sheepishly, his ears beginning to imitate tomatoes. "I mean, _He's not even a real pureblood anyway_." 

Voldemort scowled. "No need to rub it in." 

Crouch ran into the room, ignoring the fact that he was dead. "_My son coulda been a doctor or an Auror, it's true! Instead he joined the Death Eaters and look what he came too!_" 

"You can't sing, you're dead!" said Hermione, angrily. No one listened to her; after all, Crouch _was_ singing, so obviously he could sing. She scowled. 

"_Should we blame his mother?_" Parvati asked. 

"_Should we blame his sire?_" Hermione retorted, glaring at Crouch. She'd never forgiven him for his treatment of Winky. 

"_Or the Death Eaters who caused him to expire?_" sang the others. 

"_Heck no!_" Rita shouted. 

"_Blame Voldemort! Blame Voldemort!_" chorused the chorus. 

Rita hauled Voldemort kicking and screaming to the front of the room and pointed to him. "_With all his hockey hubbabaloo!_" 

"_And that bitch Pete Pettigrew!_" Ron agreed. 

The students and teachers swarmed over Voldemort like flies on rotting meat, smothering his terrified pleas. "_Blame Voldemort! Shame on Voldemort! For...the mark we must dark, the trash we must smash, the killing and guns must all be undone! We must blame him and cause a fuss before somebody thinks of blaming uuuuuuuuuuussssssssssss!_" 

THE END


End file.
